


Life and Death and Love and Birth

by Moonfrog



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Becky the PTSD Dog, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, I have no idea what I'm doing, It's All Just Terrible, Natasha Needs a Hug, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sarah the PTSD Cat, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Avengers Can Never Have Nice Things, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonfrog/pseuds/Moonfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>and peace and war on the planet Earth~</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Bucky Barnes fell off of a train, the Winter Soldier drowned in a river, and a perfectly rational person would presume that they were most definitely dead, and that they were never coming back.</p><p>James Buchanan Barnes was not one of those perfectly rational people, as he was left behind for the longest by the two souls to deal with the mess that they had left behind in their wake.</p><p>Unfortunately, it seems that both of them decided at the same time that they're a tad less than happy with having to leave, and frankly? They're not having any of it.</p><p>Or: The entirely tragic tale of Bucky Barnes and the toll that it took on the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you first_
> 
> _He'd put me deep, deep under so that he could work_
> 
> _And like the dawn you broke the dark and my whole world shook_
> 
> _I was sleeping in the garden when I saw you."_
> 
> _-"Like the Dawn" ~ The Oh Hellos_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Civil War kinda ruined my life a little bit. It's the first Marvel movie I've ever seen, and I made the mistake of going to read fanfiction right after. And now, here's the result of that: a thing that will be based off of many, many songs.
> 
> (There will be two results actually, but this is the only one I know how to write for now.)

**From the journals of James Buchanan Barnes - Entry no. 1**  

_xx - xx - 2014_

     I guess could say that I find it "unfortunate" that this person met such a "tragic" end so early in his life.

     I could, if I even knew who the hell he was.

     I know that they told me that I know this person, but to be honest I just... don't. For right now, at least, I don't think I really have to feel anything towards him besides some fleeting, distant sadness or longing (which is apparently what normal people are supposed to feel when they see people's graves), but I don't even feel that for him. There's just nothing. Confusion, maybe, but not sadness, never sadness.

     Is this what a normal person should feel if they looked at their own grave? I don't know; it seems that normal people generally don't have to do these things in the first place. I guess it probably makes sense, though; I'm not actually dead. I guess I just thought I'd feel something for the life that was apparently taken from me. Maybe HYDRA somehow took more from me than I'd initially thought.

     Anyway, I... suppose I'd like to remember, but nothing's really come up lately, and most times, to me, it seems that there's really no way around it. Some part of myself hates the rest of me for saying this, but I'd almost think I'm fine with it.

     That isn't to say that I'm _happy_ about this, by any means. I don't want to have to ask what my name is, and I don't want to try to kill someone the next time they answer; in which case, of course I'd have to try, at the very least. And anyway, I saved him! That must mean _something..._ doesn't it? There's some part of me that won't let go of whatever this insanity is, so I don't think I'll be able to give up, not even if I wanted to. Not... for now, at least. I feel like there's someone I'd dissappoint if I did.

     Besides, this is my fault anyway. I know that when I see _him,_ he'll try to tell me otherwise, and I'll try to agree with him, but I'll know that we're just lying to ourselves. I was too dependent, too trusting, I didn't fight hard enough, and I never realized until it was too late to try because the damage was already done. But, who knows, maybe it's not too late to fix it. I don't know, maybe this wasn't Bucky's fault, but I'll be damned if it wasn't mine in some way.

     I may have saved him, but I was the reason he nearly died in the first place. If I have to be James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes of the 107th to make up for seven decades' worth of blood on my hands, I'll do it. Even if I have to pretend for a while, I'll do it for them, starting with him. But I'll... just stick with "James," for now, if that's alright. I have no idea what to do now that I can finally think for myself, but for now I'm sure that, for the most part, I'll be okay with that.

     ...We'll see what happens.

 _~James Buchanan ~~"Bucky"~~  _ _Barnes_


	2. Jaigantic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I'm not necessarily overjoyed_
> 
> _Your false appearances, don't be brave_
> 
> _Be young and dumb and only come_
> 
> _Away the same as you've began_
> 
> _'I'm awfully lost'_
> 
> _You'll say to yourself when you get home and close your eyes."_
> 
> _-"Jaigantic" ~ Tora_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Civil War, I've hypothesized that Steven isn't exactly... "okay."
> 
> In fact, he's got a Jaigantic problem. //shot
> 
> (That isn't to say I forgive him completely for what he's done.)
> 
> (italics + parentheses are thoughts _[inner demons]_ )

**From the journals of James Buchanan Barnes - Entry no. 2**

_xx - xx - 2014_

     The Captain is... trusting, I know that much. A familiar face will make him stop in his tracks. When saw me on the bridge, he called me Bucky, and from there, he shut down; didn't even flinch when I asked him who that was. Not even when I was about to shoot him.

     And even then, after all that he just... stopped fighting. He just let me leave.

     After I tried to kill him.

     What if that hadn't been me?

      I find this sort of familiar, in a way. I don't know why, I just feel like he's done something like this before. He thinks too much with his heart, and not his head. I'd say it's better than not thinking at all, but isn't it the same? Was he always like this? Has he... changed at all?

     ...I find this somewhat concerning.

\--

     If ever there is a single cloud in the sky, Steven Grant Rogers vowed, never again shall he step one foot outside his door.

     Why? Well, it was a nice, cool night out, so he went for a run. He was feeling particularly stressed all day after a less-than-successful sleeping attempt, so he presumed, like any other perfectly rational person, that going outside and getting some fresh air might help his nerves a little.

     He's not sure he's ever been so wrong in his entire life.

     Steve came back completely soaked, clothes attatching themselves to his skin in the most uncomfortable way - as if there were a comfortable way - and with the mixture of water and wind causing him to shiver somewhat violently.

     It went without saying that this was a truly terrible descision, which is why he would never be making it again.

     He rushed to the bathroom as quickly as he could in his heavy, wet clothes - which wasn't very quick at all - closed the door behind him, and quite literally peeled them off immediately.

     Stepping into the shower, Steve turned the handle as far right as it could go without snapping it off completely. It was never hot enough until it was absolutely scalding, and even then, when any rational person would want nothing more than to jump in a pool of ice water, it still would never be hot enough.

     However, since the purpose of a shower was in fact not to boil people alive, this would have to do, for now, at least. _(I can't go back)_

     He was about five minutes into scorching himself when he heard an urgent-sounding, yet timid knock at the door. Turning the water off and wrapping himself in a towel, he stepped into the hallway, yelling "just a minute!" as he crossed into his room in order to put some dry clothes on.

     As he did so, he heard the storm still raging on outside. It sounded like it had lessened, if only a little, but it was still seeming pretty bad. Who on earth could possibly be outside in that? Probably some poor soul who happened to be stuck outside during the rain.

     Well, as the person whose other half was the very symbol of righteousness, who was he to turn them away? However, with his ongoing streak of bad ideas, he could only hope that it wasn't a criminal this time.

     Stepping out of the hallway, he cautiously made his way to the door, listening closely for any sign of danger. Upon hearing none, his gaze flicked shortly to the brightly coloured shield that rested on the floor.

     Holding his breath, he opened the door.

     His eyes widened almost comically at the sight.

     "Bucky?"

     The other man's eyes seemed to grow somewhat sadder at the name than they already were as they searched for... _something_ , but his lips still twitched upward anyway, if only slightly.

     "Steven."

     Already over the initial shock - at an impressive time, really - he swiftly pulled "Bucky" inside and out of the rain, fiercely fighting the urge to immediately envelop his friend into a tight hug.

     "Bucky - thank God you're safe - what are you doing here? How did you get here, especially in this weather, you look terrible, what did you-- why-- you--" Steve threw his hands up in frustration. "Are you insane?"

     "I... I don't know," came the simple reply, sounding so small.

     "But you--" He let out a huff, cutting himself off and putting his arms down in defeat. "You know what, nevermind, I don't care. I just... don't care. You- you... please, just go to the bathroom right now, I'm sure you would like a hot shower, among many other things. You can use my stuff, you can take however long in there as you'd like. I'll get you some of my clothes to put on when you're done. And when you're done, you'll come out here, and I'll have something ready for you to eat." It wasn't until he finished and saw that Bucky had stiffened considerably since he arrived that Steve noticed he'd been using _That_   _Voice_ \- yes, with capitals. He sighed, regretting it instantly.

     "If... if that's okay with you."

     "I-- ...yes."

     Steve wasn't really aiming to push right now with how uncomfortable Bucky already looked, so whatever he was going to say would simply have to remain unsaid, no matter how loud the voice telling him otherwise was. _(What does he want why can't he tell me oh my God is he scared of me-)_

     "O-Okay, good. Good! The bathroom's the first door down the hall to the right."

     Bucky simply nodded all too stiffly and went on his way.

     Steve waited until he was out of earshot before he collapsed on the couch and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Burying his face in his hands, he groaned. What on Earth was he going to do with that boy? He could tell that Bucky was more than likely willing to do whatever he told him, but using that would be lazy and would probably slow his progress. However, he had a feeling that coddling him or asking too many questions would not help very much either.

     He asks again, what on Earth is he going to do?

     It wasn't until he heard the sound of running water that he realised he already had something he was supposed to be doing.

     He picked out the clothes from his room and placed them near the sink, gingerly closing the door behind him. He then got out a simple can of soup - two just in case - and went to work. After that, it was just playing the waiting game.

     ...He was very bad at waiting.

     Not that he was impatient by any means, it's just that he was the type who couldn't be left hanging by others for too long. He started thinking, and thinking was very, very unhealthy.

     Bucky being one of those aforementioned others did not help.

     At all.

     In fact, within his mind, he happened to be trapped in a 1940s Brooklyn. There resided one confidently curly-haired queen; one incredibly charming fellow who doubled as an absolute madman; and someone else whom he really, really just did not deserve. And sometimes he missed them, and everyone else, and it was very, very, very unhealthy.

     Fortunately - or unfortunately - he didn't have to wait for very long after that.

     When Bucky came out, he looked about a septillion times better, save for the rather lost look that plagued his eyes no matter what expression he wore.

     ...They'd cross that bridge when they got to it. _(What did they **do**  to him)_

     "Bucky! C'mon, how long has it been since you've had a decent meal?"

     Bucky paused in contemplation for a moment, then simply shrugged and took a seat near the table, when Steve placed the bowl of soup in front of him.

     Bucky only stared at it for a moment, then back up at Steve, something akin to skepticism on his features.

     "Aren't... aren't you going to eat too?"

     To be honest, he'd already lost his appetite, and he was just about to explain that, until he realised what the question really meant.

     Steve's heart had already shattered to pieces a while ago, but now it felt like someone was just sweeping them up and throwing them in a furnace. _(He didn't want this he didn't **deserve**  this-)_

     "Would it make you feel better if I tried it first?"

     The other hesitated, then nodded tentatively, refusing to meet Steve's gaze.

     Steve flashed a reassuring smile as he did so, looking for any sign of... something on Bucky's face.

     However, his actions were enough, because after the first spoonful, all suspicion seemed to vanish out of existence in an instant, along with the soup since he practically inhaled it in what was maybe less than twenty seconds? Ten?

     "...Oh." Was all Steve could say as he stared at the barren bowl in utter disbelief. "I guess it's been a while, then... You want more?"

     The speed at which he agreed surprised both of them, and the second one took around maybe thirty to twenty-five seconds. That really said a lot, but once again, only when they got to it. _( **What did they do to him-** )_

     "Alright, then. I guess I forgot about your appetite." Surprisingly, Bucky gave a sheepish smile at that.

     It wasn't much by way of pre-WWII Bucky's standards, but Steve be damned if that wasn't an improvement.

     It went away as quickly as it showed up once he saw Steve taking the bowl away to the sink, Bucky letting out a small whine of protest that stopped as soon as the other turned around.

     "Sorry, Buck, but I can't let you eat so much too quickly. Remember what happened last time when-” Steve's breath hitched in his throat and he grinned uneasily. _(Of course he doesn't remember you **idiot** -)_

     "Nevermind." He said quietly when he noticed Bucky's confused expression. Luckily, he also noticed hints of tiredness in it.

     "Hey, come on. It's late, we should probably be asleep. There's someone who'd quite possibly kill me if she found out I wasn't sleeping right anyway."

     Bucky looked a bit worried at the notion, but made no move to protest as Steve led him to the guest room. He definitely made no protests about getting into the bed either, because as soon he touched it, loud snore escaped him, letting everyone within a thirty mile radius know that he was out cold.

     Steve snorted fondly at the sight, turning the light out with a gentle whisper of "goodnight, Bucky," and returned to his own room. Once there, he didn't sleep; not yet, at least. Instead, he just gazed at the suddenly-interesting patterns in the ceiling, and thought.

     Maybe... maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Maybe this could actually work out. His friend, his best friend was alive. (and he wasn't well but he was away from that awful place and he was  _alive-_ )

     And Steve kept thinking. He thought and thought and thought and reminisced and he decided. He'd follow his friend to the ends of the earth if he had to. It was nearly all he had left, after all.

     He... didn't have a whole lot, but that was okay now.

     Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the most restful sleep he'd had in a while.

     ...They'd just have to see what happened.

\--

     Little did Steve know, in Bucky's mind, there resided plums, a redhead, and a scrawny blond kid from Brooklyn with an entire textbook of health problems, from asthma to hyperconfidencia (dangerously high levels of determination and self-righteousness in the bloodstream.)

     And little did he know, in his sleeping reality, he smiled.

     (There were other things unbeknownst to him, of course, but... yeah, when they got to it.)


End file.
